


The rose of faith

by HelenofTroy



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenofTroy/pseuds/HelenofTroy
Summary: Westminster, December 1485.The King Richard is dead. The new king, Henry Tudor has just occupied the throne, but is full of doubts and fears. His mother, Margaret de Beaufort expects much from him, perhaps too much.Henry knows he's not a popular king. He needs to take the air, and find his faith.Elizabeth of York is desolate. Another Christmas that comes without his father, without Richard, without his brother Edward. Elizabeth thinks of that young man in the woods, the "friend" of the Tudor.





	

-How is it possible? I do not want to hear it Henry-Margart Beaufort left her Holly Bible on the Henry´s table. A lot of papers were waiting there to his sign.  
-I'm not asking your permission, My Lady Mother, I'm going to the abbey. I need to go away for a few hours, understand. I need to find God now more than ever-Henry stroked his red hair nervously, and his mother knew he really needed to leave.

-I understand, son. I only thought that in the chapel of the castle you would be better. Remember that your wedding is in January. And you must know your wife first, in two days' time.  
-Yes, my Lady Mother-Henry rolled his eyes, before he left and laid the luxurious monarch jewels on the bed and left.  
Margaret felt a tear trickle down her eyes. He hated that gesture so peculiar to Henry. Roll his eyes. It was more than she could bear , her poor patience. Henry was tired, he did not look like the king they all expected. And the worst thing was that he was not really because his doubts. But she, Margaret was born by the Grace of God to create him, as God created Adam from the mud, and so would. Henry was tired from the war, that was all. But his wife, the beautiful Lizzie like all them used to call her, would turn him in a charismatic man, a great father and an excellent king. Margaret was not stupid. She still remembered the magnetism of Edward IV, his beauty, his intelligence. And it was all due to Elizabeth Woodville, to the effect they wielded together in the people. Everything was an appearance, but it worked.

If something had those witches of the Rivers women, were a divine beauty and an infinite fertility. Henry had wanted to go see Elizabeth, but Margaret had persuaded him not to do it until the wedding day, like the old fashioned way. If Henry had seen her before, he would have fallen into sin, as Edward IV surely fell with Queen Elizabeth, so they had been punished by God and their children had disappeared by their own hand.  
For lying together without being married. 

His poor son, was not used to treat a woman so dazzling like Lizzie was. Her beauty far exceeded that of her mother in her youth. She was like Leonor of Aquitaine, the beauty walking on the floor, her kindgom next to Henry would be legendary because her beauty. Her light steps, her long wavy hair, her angelic face. Margaret thought with sadness how ordinary Henry would look at her side, like a poor farmer in love, but how he would love her on his bed .... the children so beautiful and healthy she would give him. Why was God so unjust and made those harlots Rivers fertile and beautiful? His son would love the spoils of King Richard, his uncle. So unfair that would be. 

Margaret buried her face in his hands, feeling a mixture of horror and grief for his son, who nevertheless did not understand because the beautiful life that began for his son was her happiness. Really Margaret was happy. Margaret was sad. Margaret knew the God´s will. Margaret was pious & perfect, but letal as an arrow about to kill two innocents kids sleeping in the tower if that was the God´s will, she could come back to do it again, if this would be the God´s will. Like God asked to Abraham the Isaac´s life. But he finally did not have to kill him, so, the Margaret´s hand had was stoped by another when she was gonna to end with the princes as the gossips. She was innocent, she was a guilty. She was a saint and a fanatical killer. That was Margaret Beaufort to the world, to herself. 

This was Margaret. 

Henry heard his own footsteps as he entered in the abbey. His soldiers guarded the precious building. There was no one left, it was seven o'clock at night.

Henry was dressed alone in his white shirt, wearing a fine linen jacket in his hand, and sat down on the nearest recliner between the seats of the nobles. The noise of the beautiful stone walls was double. It seemed that another Henry was sitting behind him.

Henry began to say his prayers in Latin, but again the creaking of other clothes sounded in the abbey. A soft murmur, also in Latin, attracted his attention.

There was someone else in that abbey. Someone that his guard let in. Someone noble surely. Henry opened his eyes, his hands still crossed. And then he saw her. The young blond woman in the forest, there she was again. With her long, loose hair this time, and a plain blue dress. She prayed desperately away from him. A column separated them.

Henry felt a sense of inner joy, which made him blush as if he were a schoolboy in love with some lady of the court. Would be in love with that young noble York? Well, that was all she knew about her.  
The girl had engraved the splendid white flower of the York on her cleavage, covered by the blue sky handkerchief. Her cleavage was plentiful and generous. He thought in Mary, the only prostitute that he had met while his young years. She hadn´t been a beautiful woman, but a rude one, she was any woman found in a brothel. Vulgar, fat, without more intelligence that put herself down, ready for give the men pleausure, while Henry always had desire meet the divinity through the flesh, he was a dreamer like his mother. And his first time in a woman´s bed had been a disaster, with Mary asking to him money after the love, and Henry calling his uncle Jasper. What a disaster, never in his life he would come back to ask love by money. In his soul yet left dignity. 

Henry felt embarrassed, he was in the abbey and only was thinking in how woud be make to that bonde "Friend" of the Yorks those things that he had made to Mary ... but he could not stop thinking about her. Was she a spy sent by Elizabeth Woodville, the witch?  
It could not be anything else. The king watched her, hiding her head in her hands. Henry did not know if what he felt was horror, fear, faith, shame or love.

 

Lizzie could not cry, all her tears were gone already. The situation of loss was a fact, and could only go forward.  
Her prayers exhausted her, for there was nothing she did not do with passion.  
-You are a passionate woman even in you prayers, like your father. You have my face, but his strength, hopefully you could hear the voice of your father praying, demanding to God that his dreams were fulfilled-his mother had told him before she came to the abbey.  
The beads of her rosary appeared on the wood, brown. 

Lizzie began to count them, when suddenly as if the look of Henry called her, saw him among the lit candles.  
-Hello- she said, waving one arm.  
She had finally found him. To her dearest forest confidante. The only friend of the Tudors who was glad to see. The man with no name.  
The "friend", the "Soldier". 

Lizzie smiled shyly without saying anything. Then Lizzie got to her feet and walked to his recliner.

Henry Immobile as a child saw her come feeling only the beating of her heart.

-God bless you, Friend Tudor-said Lizzie, kneeling beside him, in his reclinatory. Henry smiled, could not contain his happiness.

-God bless you in this Christmas, Friend York-said Henry with a sincere expression of joy. 

-So, you will let me know your name now? -she asked, offering to him the rosary of her mother, that he took, kissing it.  
-I don´t want do it-he said  
-Oh come on, my Lord, you are a member of the Court, because the Royal guards are keeping the doors of this abbey-said Lizzie with a seductive head movement, dropping her hair to one side. Her heavy mane maddened him. Henry just wanted to stick his nose in it. Again.

-Guess my name-he said, trying to win time.  
Abruptly, and Henry then stood static, furious with fear. The rosary ended in the floor. 

-Oh then it´s Henry-she smiled to him, showing his lips, red like the sweet pomegranates he loved so much.

-Yes, like the new king-he said-and how is the yours, milady? 

-Lizzie, in home everyone call me like that-she said, while Henry did not know how approach his body to her body, but he only wanted make that. 

-I´m praying for the God´s grace. I need that He gives me wisdom, faith & courage. I´m gonna to marry in a month-he said. The King´s Lady Mother order me that. 

-Oh...-a A note of sadness sounded in Lizzie's sigh. "What a beautiful family name," thought Henry.  
Lizzie's gaze had changed. She took the rosary from the floor.

-If the King´s Lady Mother has promissed to you a wife, she will be the best, my dearest friend. You´re not weak, because you saved me from the death. When we met us in the forest i was gonna to take my life, for carry it next to the love of my life, falled in the Henry Tudor´s struggle by the power. He lost his war, and he left the God´s Earth for works in his glory. For me was painful, but i was sunk, blind. Your presence was the only one thing that made me think in another way. You were a light sent by God to me and your words changed my mind. Your words were for me the memory of all what i´m of all what i have to do yet in this life. i´m young and if i have a life now is thanks to the help of a good friend that i found in the path. 

-And now you´re returning me my help to you?-asked Henry smiling.  
-Of course Henry, which is your problem? 

-The new reign of Henry means for me being the first in everything in my family: like the only man i must make a marriage for convenience, keep the security of a lot of people who hate me, and change my ways for reach the charisma between the people, the same of Edward IV, who was a model like king to the people, as my mother say. 

-Oh please, allow to your mother say that, because is true. Under the kingdom of Edward IV the Court was an amazing place, full of the best singers of the ancient English songs, a place full of beauty, wonderful ladies, and artist like painters, poets & musics. 

How Henry was enjoying hearing her!!! 

-Then the king Henry should bring to his Court to the youngest artist?  
-Yes, Henry. One of every art-she said, puting her face nearest to his face everytime. 

This boy was the understanding, and Lizzie was thirsty for it. 

-Pray with me, Lizzie  
-I´ll do, Henry-she whispered Just before feeling the kiss of the hidden king. The Henry´s lips were dry and cracked, but his rugue delighted Lizzie. It was like trying a cinnamon stick caramel. Henry tasted sweet and manly.

Lizzie kissed his virginal lips with a slow kiss, passing her lips over hims, skinned, again and again, as if she never wanted to end.

When the kiss endes, both knew that again the moment of say goodbye had arrived between them again. 

-I´ll pray for find you again, Lady Lizzie-he said  
-As i´ll do, my noble Henry-she promissed, making the cross signal in his face. 

-You will find your happiness, your love and a great family, Lizzie. When the king see you he will be so happy-he said, but she had left already her place next to him, and far of him turned on news candles, showing her red flower while she walked. The rose of faith, now Henry was alive again. 

Henry Tudor was in love.


End file.
